


Sway

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Mirror Universe, Oral Sex, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 18:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Paul gets a good surprise.





	Sway

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Since Mirror Hugh doesn’t seem to have a canon, I’m making it up.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Bizarre as it is in their twisted world, Paul actually _likes_ some of the people he works with, but they’re all raging incompetents compared to the brilliance of his own mind. He often works in the sprawling open decks of Engineering, shuffling different equipment from one over-crowded table to another, but then other times he collects everything he needs and holes up in his office. Sometimes he has ideas, usually magnificent, he can’t risk showing the others. Even the closest ‘friends’ could betray him at any moment and report everything to the Emperor. Paul’s already gone over his entire office with a fine-toothed comb and picked out every last surveillance device. He re-checks it regularly. There, he has privacy: just him and his spores. 

Then the door whooshes open, which should be the first red flag, because it should need Paul’s personal override code to do that. The man that struts in is only a vaguely familiar face—a “doctor” from the mortuary the Emperor calls a sickbay. They’ve exchanged a few words in passing before, because as obsessed with his work as he is, Paul’s still a grown man with needs, and Hugh Culber is objectively attractive. He flashes Paul a handsome smile and marches right up to Paul, so close that the tips of Hugh’s shoes nudge into his. The next thing Paul knows, two strong hands are on his face, cupping his cheeks, and he’s being drawn in for a kiss. 

It’s a trap, obviously. Everything in the Empire is. Paul’s hands fly up to Hugh’s biceps, bracing himself against Hugh’s solid weight, and he means to push away—but Hugh’s an exceptionally good kisser, and the way his tongue curls in Paul’s mouth makes Paul’s toes curl in his socks. It’s not like he never fantasized about this before. Except in his fantasies, there was usually a little more preamble. Some semblance of a relationship. Not just... random making out. 

He’s not in a position to be picky. He savours the delicious heat and the skill of Hugh’s mouth right until the second it pulls away. Then Paul’s moaning as Hugh nips at his chin and kisses down his throat. A single, firm kiss presses through his uniform over his heart. Another peck comes lower down his midsection. One on his belt, his hip, and then Paul’s stumbling back against his desk. His hands grip the edges, darting to hold him up. Hugh sinks down to his knees before Paul and looks up with burning eyes. Hugh’s breath catches, stunned. 

Maintaining that eye contact, Hugh deftly unfastens Paul’s pants. He gets the zipper down enough to reach inside, presumptuously bypassing Paul’s boxers, and it’s ridiculously fast, but Paul doesn’t stop it. Hugh’s thick fingers close around his cock, soft and warm, and pull him out into the open air. A shiver runs down Paul’s spine. This doesn’t seem like it could be real. He must be caught in the mycelium network without realizing it, and he’s just seeing things. It’s the only explanation. But it _feels_ so concrete. Hugh dons a wicked grin full of charm and sensuality. He chastely kisses Paul’s tip while his hand locks around the base. 

Then he’s opening wide and swallowing Paul down, and it’s all Paul can do not to drop to his knees. He cries out in a rush of pure _pleasure_, fingers digging tight into the desk. He wants to run his fingers back through Hugh’s short hair but isn’t willing to risk it—because this is too good to be true, and if he tempts fate anymore, it’s probably going to bite him. 

Hugh doesn’t bite. There’s a small, dull scrape of teeth, but mostly just the tightness of his mouth and wetness of his tongue. He even hollows out his cheeks and sucks _hard_, hard enough that Paul gasps and bucks forward. Hugh’s tight grip holds him down. Paul practically trembles in that grasp, already so close to bursting. He can’t remember the last time he got a blow job. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he got a   
hand job. And the last one he got definitely wasn’t _this_ good. But maybe he’s not evaluating right, because Hugh looks insanely hot with his lips stretched wide around Paul’s cock, and that view alone is pushing Paul so near to the edge. 

He comes with a ragged cry and another weak buck of his hips. Hugh swallows around him in one large gulp, then a few smaller ones, not relinquishing the pressure in the slightest. Paul stutters into him, dizzy with the orgasm, then heavy but light-headed. He moans when Hugh pulls off. 

Hugh considerately tucks Paul back in. He crudely wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand, and he pushes up to his feet like nothing happened. Paul dazedly breathes, “That... was incredible.”

“And there’s more where that came from,” Hugh promises, “_If_ you join Captain Lorca.”

Paul’s stomach sinks. He knew it was too good to be true. Unease prickles along his skin—he said he’d never follow that barbarian, not in a million years. 

Hugh smirks like he knows. He turns and goes without another word. Paul tells himself he’ll never see Doctor Culber again. The head was great, but not _that_ great. Not worth risking his skin. 

Until he finds out Lorca can get him a tardigrade _and_ Hugh Culber, and suddenly Paul’s on the next transport out.


End file.
